


Oranges

by unsettled



Category: Body of Lies (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He swears Roger does it on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oranges

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Roger ate an orange in the beginning of Body of Lies and my brain got stuck. Also, I'm not so sure about my Hani in this, but … eh. He's in a playful mood.

He swears Roger does it on purpose.

It's become something of a habit since Roger came back with an edgy, defiant set to his shoulders, unable to turn away from Hani's offer but still, still so hesitant about setting himself up for another fall. He'd lost that blind trust he'd somehow managed to retain all these years, lost it under the knife, Hani thinks. He doesn't let himself remember that it was more likely his words, delivered to a face still battered and covered with dark stains under the skin.

Roger may not trust him any more, but he does a good job pretending. Some days – many days – Hani finds he can still regret that he only barely tempered his ruthlessness when it came to Roger.

But he never regrets not telling Aisha.

Whether or not Roger trusts him, whether or not he ever will, they work together well. It's become habit to spend the mornings together, when they discovered they both have the tendency to wander into headquarters earlier than most sane people. Earlier than those who make the coffee, at least.

Hani wonders why they even bother leaving at all.

So the first time he found Roger half slumped over his desk, bleary eyed in the early morning and staring balefully at a file, with a conspicuously empty mug pushed aside, he'd invited him to share breakfast. Roger'd visibly perked up at the possibility of coffee, and Hani nearly smirked at the surprise he knew awaited him. Because Hani was – and he'd admit it – rather particular when it came to coffee. Especially since he rarely drank it, much preferring a well brewed tea; but when he did indulge…

Roger may have become accustomed to coffee that's not a pale, American ghost of proper coffee, but even then he's sure to have been drinking inferior street blends. Hani finds himself proved correct when Roger takes his first sip, only to close his eyes and sigh happily, shoulders and brow easing.

Hani smiles.

They'd settled at the patio table, the sky washed with early color, with a selection of breakfast type foods. Roger had bent his head over his files again, and grabbed an orange from the bowl.

He'd grabbed an _orange_.

Hani hadn't had the faintest clue what that meant at the time; oranges were merely … oranges.

But Roger. Roger.

Roger never looked up from his printed words as he peeled it, slowly, pressing his thumbs into the bright flesh until juice bubbled up, until he'd worked one short nail under the skin and peeled off a strip, carefully. Worked his hands around it, picking it tiny white threads and separating thick peel with meticulous care, patience, and only half a mind, with the air of something he'd done so often he needn't even think of it. Finally, the orange is peeled, and Hani's just about to look away (when had he gotten caught staring?) when Roger pulled at a segment, pulled too hard and the thin skin spilt, sending juice dripping down the side, and Roger moved his hand quickly to catch it in his palm before it could spatter onto the papers. Popped the piece into his mouth, and seconds later, his finger as well, lips catching at it in a most distracting manner. He pulled it out, shining faintly with wetness, and ducked his chin to lick the palm of his hand, tongue pink and far too provocative and Hani was utterly, utterly stuck on Roger's _hands_ and his _mouth_ and that damned _orange_ …

And Roger kept right on peeling away segment after segment, the sharp smell carrying to Hani as he watched Roger absentmindedly lick his fingers clean.

Hani makes sure there are _always_ oranges in the mornings.

But it's become habit for them to meet early and drink their respective wake up calls and get a start on the day's work. Well. For Roger to get a start on the day's work, and for Hani to get a start on his day's 'staring at Roger'. Because every morning, Roger reaches for an orange. And every morning, he peels it so slowly that Hani's more than half convinced he _knows_ exactly what he's doing, drawing it out like that.

This morning, however, when Roger bites into a slice of orange, it bursts messily, drips down his chin. He jerks a hand up to keep it from dripping; licks his lips and finger tips and still misses a spot, shining sticky in the shadow under his lip.

Hani swallows.

"Would you care for a knife?" he says, and he'll be damned if his voice hasn't gone deeper, rasps in the back of his throat.

"What?" Roger asks, surprised as he looks up at Hani – slants his eyes up with out moving his head, sly and teasing and he _has_ to know what he's doing. "No, I'm fine. I – I don't like to use knives."

His eyes lose that teasing edge for a second, and Hani – Hani curses himself, and mentally throws up his hands, because who on this earth could resist Roger like this? He stands; pushes back his chair with a scrap and Roger starts, looks up at Hani for real as Hani comes around the table. Curls his hand under Roger's chin and presses his lips to that sticky spot at the edge of his lip, tasting the sharp bitter sweetness of citrus. Roger draws in a sharp breath, trembles and kisses back so eagerly when Hani moves to his lips that – _he knew it_ \- there's no doubt Roger's been wanting this for a while.

Hani pulls away, and Roger whimpers, _whines_. He presses a finger to Roger's lips, a warning and a reassurance, and Roger's tongue darts out to slide wet and warm against them. "Not here," Hani tells him, and Roger nods. "Later," he tells him, regretfully, but right now – right now there is one small thing he can do to get Roger back for his _teasing_.

He lifts one of Roger's hands, still sticky, and wraps his lips around one finger. Roger moans.

He thinks this will be more than adequate payback, since it's all Roger will get for the rest of the day.


End file.
